Overnight Idiot

Yesterday I asked Parker, "So did your butterfly hatch out of its cocoon?"
He looks at me incredulously. "You mean chrysalis. Cocoons are for moths."
"Right."
"Do you even know where a butterfly's thorax is?"
"Ummm...."
"O.k. I'll ask you an easy one. What kind of eye does a butterfly have?"
That's an easy one? "Uhhh...a butterfly eye?"
"I'll give you a clue. It's the same kind of eye that a caterpillar has."
"A caterpillar eye?"
"No!" he shakes his head in disbelief. "A compound eye!"
I remember back on Monday, when I was helping him with his spelling words, and I knew something he didn't. Yes, those were the days....

Mr. Missionary

Parker woke up this morning and announced, "Today at the MTC, we're having bike riding practice. Do we have a picture of Jesus or something?"

This was much like Saturday, when he woke up and announced, "Me and Jacob have a basketball game at 9:00 this morning. I need a plain white shirt."
"They're all dirty."
"But, MOM, that's our uniform."
The doorbell rings. "Aaaahh, it's 9:05. That's Jacob, and I'm late for our game!"

So I'm used to the morning pronouncement of the day's activities. Today, apparently, it was playing missionary. He got dressed in his Sunday clothes, put on one of Chris's missionary name tags, filled his Bob the Builder backpack with scriptures and a picture of Jesus, and was off, practicing riding his bike like a missionary.


This lasted until Jacob came outside. "Parker, my mom bought me a new light saber."
Parker, super excited, "Let me run inside and change my clothes, and then we can play."
Jacob looks at Parker, "Are those your pajamas?"
Parker, "No, these are my Sunday clothes."
Jacob, "Can Mormons play on Mondays?"

Of course they can. As Parker and Jacob tromp out my front door, light sabers in hand, I hear, "So spaceships or pod racers first?"
"Definitely spaceships."

Back in the Blogosphere

I have been computerless for two weeks, as our brand new, just got for Christmas computer, died. As in it wouldn't turn on at all. Grrrrr. Now it's back, and so am I.

So tonight our entire family got haircuts. It was a hellacious experience.


But now everyone's cute, except for me. I got a truly terrible haircut. I kept praying, "Please let me get the gay guy. Please let me get the gay guy." But I got the middle-age woman who cut my hair in ten minutes, and made it look even more hideous than it already did. I doubted the type of haircut I would get at Great Clips would be stellar, but I had these buy one, get one free coupons from the back of my Cheerio boxes.....

Anyway, McKay was the surprise. She said she didn't want a haircut, because she loved her long "Sleeping Beauty" hair, but she started begging for one when we got there.



Now she has "Snow White" hair, and she's happy.

My Son, the Teenager

I thought I had several years left before home was simply a place to get a good night's sleep, and wheels, girls, and food became obsessions. I was sadly wrong. Somehow, my first grader is getting a head start on those teenage years.

First, home. It is no longer where most of Parker's life is lived. It is just a landing base for food, sleep, and light sabers. In a typical day, after we arrive home from school, Parker doesn't even come inside. Instead he grabs his bike or basketball and is out the garage door. His feet don't make it through the doorway until he is summoned for dinner. Then the moment dinner is over, he's back outside playing until bedtime. I tried putting an after school snack on the kitchen table to slow him long enough to have a five minute conversation. Once he started asking for his snack "to go" I gave up that plan.

Next, wheels. Now that he has learned to ride his bike, that is pretty much all he wants to do. Today I saw him riding his scooter, and I was surprised. "Where's your bike?" I asked.
"I ran over a goat head and got a flat tire."
"Oh."
He hung his head and whispered like he was at a funeral, "I miss it."
"I'm sorry. It's probably been a tough ten minutes without it."
"Yeah." Sigh.

Girls. Today (pre-goat head) we rode our bikes to school. I was helping Parker lock up his bike when four girls from his class accosted him giggling. What? They're already in love with him?
"Parker, we brought our teddy bears for show and tell. Do you want to play with them."
Parker, in an absolute perfect imitation of Napoleon Dynamite, "No! What do you think?"

Food. I'm making dinner, when the front door is hurled open and Parker shouts with unparalleled intensity as he runs up the stairs, "Igoddadollacreamuck!!"
"What?" I come running, sure he is asking me to call an ambulance.
"I've got to grab my tooth fairy dollar! There is an ice cream truck in our neighborhood!"
The kid is up and down those stairs in thirty seconds flat. Then I see him race across the street so fast on his scooter, that he completely wipes out. My normally pain dramatic (He is his father's child) son, does a three second evaluation of his knees, and is back scootering at breakneck speed.

Yep. That's Parker. Six going on thirteen.

Garage Sale Find

Like every stereotypical Mormon mom, I have wanted a piano in our home. I do play the piano very poorly, but the main reason for the musical instrument, is to force piano lessons down my children's throats. So when I found this gorgeous antique piano at a garage sale on Saturday, priced ridiculously cheap, I did what any person who loves a good deal would do--I offered them even less money for it. And here's the great part--they took it!

Once we got the piano home, Chris started deep cleaning it. It had obviously sat in a garage for some time. While cleaning it out he found this:

Yep, that's a 50-60 year old empty Milk Duds box. Pretty cool. A quick check on ebay, and I discovered that if I wanted to sell that box, I could about cover the cost of the piano purchase. Because I bought the piano for....$25! Best garage sale purchase ever.

Remember Who You Are

So today when I dropped Parker off at school, I gave him my usual mother ramble. "Have a good day at school. I love you. Have fun at P.E. Remember who you are."

Parker looks at me and says, "I think you can stop saying 'Remember who you are.' I only know five people who forgot who they were, and I wasn't one of them."